


An Inspector Calls

by imsfire



Series: Rogue One Anniversary prompts [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: (not sure quite how to describe it sorry if that's vague), Alderaanian Diaspora, Bodhi is a HERO, Bodhi love because he deserves all the love, also the author having fun trying to imagine a tacky fairground & circus acts in the SW universe, background cassian/jyn - Freeform, implied child abuse or coercion of a vulnerable minor, my headcanon that Bodhi works with refugees whenever he can, new parents Cassian and Jyn, nothing at all explicit mainly Bodhi's instinct that something isn't quite right, who wants to save everyone, written for Rogue One anniversary prompt "favourite character"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:38:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: "I need to impersonate someone and I need to do it now.  A – a Regional Inspector of Fairgrounds and Circuses.  Or something.”Bodhi Rook is not an undercover agent, but needs must when he spots something very suspicious in a fairground act...





	An Inspector Calls

“And now, Ladies, Gentlemen and Honoured Beings, we proudly present our most cherished Act, the Jewel of the Beyond, the Mystical Princess from the Farthest Outer Rim!”

WTF, thinks Bodhi Rook.

He’s been enjoying the fairground, up until now.  His rendezvous had gone well and in another couple of hours he should be taking delivery of a supply shipment of top-quality fresh produce from the in-system representative of the Goodacry Corporation, an Alliance sympathiser with a handy knack for slicing his own company’s books.  It was a straightforward mission for his first solo effort and all he has to do now is wait, so to fill in the time inconspicuously he’d wandered into the fair.  Where he had won a pair of quartz earrings and a plushy Tooka-cat toy on the shooting range, and ten credits on the competitive Flight Simulator, bought a loaf of bread and three jars of mixed spiced chutney to take home, and enjoyed a mug of hot mulled kaf and a fruit treat-stick sticky with green honey.

It’s almost like an old-time festival at home.

“Her radiant beauty astonishes all eyes – her exotic dark gaze penetrates all mysteries, her stunning figure will dazzle the most sophisticated among you!  Observe the magic of her entranced delirium as she contemplates the wonders of life and death and communes with the Force Itself!”

WTF indeed.

It is apparently the highlight of the show: Captain Morosi Caletano’s Amazing Parade of the Wonders of the Galaxy!  And it has all been going so well up till then.  Some very good Twi’lek acrobats, a pair of “Corellian Mermaids” waving and smiling from a tank on wheels, a comedy act of two dancing Gigorans and a very small human trying to cut in on their waltz.  A Drabatan juggling trained crabs who wave indoor fireworks in their claws as they fly through the air.

But then the Mystical Princess was trundled in, propped up on a decorated floater-seat, and suddenly the cheerful tawdriness of the circus went sour on Bodhi.

The “Princess” is a girl of thirteen or fourteen at most, and clearly in a state of severe traumatic dissociation.  He should know; he’s been fighting his way back from it for four years now. 

He sees thin brown hands lying slack in her lap and dark eyes staring into nowhere; the girl has been dressed in an overlarge robe of bright pink and white, and her black hair cascades down her back from beneath a coronet covered with spangles.  She would be a pretty kid, if her face weren’t dead and her mouth empty of expression.  The appreciative oohs and ahhs from the audience make him wince.  The girl is alive; she blinks occasionally as her chair glides round the ring, but is otherwise distressingly impassive.  The ringmaster – presumably Morosi Caletano himself – is discoursing on her supposed spiritual powers and ability to uplift the very soul with a mere touch of her hand; and then offering an “unequalled opportunity” for a “select few” to experience the marvel of her Royal Highness’ blessed Presence at a private audience; “one on one, Ladies and Gentlemen and Honoured Beings, one on one with this beauty, and for only 5 credits a head!”  

And someone in the audience says cheerfully “¡Stang vos, que mierda!”

The ringmaster turns a haughty shoulder to the insult; but for a brief instant the girl in the floater-chair comes alive.  Alive with a look of agonised sorrow; but alive nonetheless. 

Krif.  She speaks Alderaanian.  Speaks it, and is moved to misery by the mere sound of someone swearing in it.

She can have been barely ten years old when Alderaan was destroyed.  Who is she, how did she wind up here?   Is she a last lost refugee, stranded in this madhouse of fakery? 

Bodhi knows he’s jumping to conclusions; stars, if Conclusions were a place he’d be their hurdling champion right now.  But he’s seen too many refugees in his life to be able to look on from the bleachers and say “oh, how sad” and move on.

This girl needs help, or he’s a shebhead. 

The floater chair is departing from the ring, pink and white streamers trailing behind it as the ringmaster promises yet more delights for those prepared to spend a few extra credits to enjoy her company in private.  Bodhi shudders as the thought of what those promises may mean begins to sink in.  For his conscience’ sake alone, he has to know if the girl’s near-catatonic state is real or assumed.  It looked real enough to him, but such things can be faked.  And is she aware of being hawked for “private audiences” to any badmash prepared to cough up an extra five credits?  Is she a willing participant in the show?  

And how in the name of every lost shrine in Jedha is he to find out?  Much less help her get free, if she wants to leave?  He’s no undercover agent.  He’s here to confirm a deal, meet a company ship at a drop-point and take delivery of a cargo, nothing more.  He speaks barely twenty words of Alderaanian, and most of them are swears.  He needs Cassian.

No chance of getting him here, though, with little Esper only a few weeks old.

Bodhi slips out of the back of the marquee while two Ruurian contortionists tangle themselves together behind him.  He strolls through the crowds and tucks himself into the gap between two outbuildings behind a crowded bar.  Keeping his head up and his voice down, he makes a comm call.

The voice that answers yawns immediately and then says “Hi, Bo.”

“Jyn, hi.  How are things going?”

“Good.  I think.  He’s still eating like a - Force, I dunno, a very hungry being.  Every two hours!  We’re both exhausted but he’s good, he’s fine.  He’s so beautiful.  Hey, what? – you’re on base again already?”

“Uh, no, I’m still on Magansar.  But – there’s a situation.  Is Cassian there?”

“He’s sleeping.”

In the background a muffled voice says “I’m awake now.”

“Blast, I didn’t mean to wake you.  Guys, I’m sorry.  I need both of your help.”

There’s a rustle as the comm is set down somewhere, and a sleepy chirrup from the baby.  Cassian’s voice says “Shh, shh” and he too yawns; then “Hi, Bodhi, how’s it going?”

“What do you need us to do?” Jyn adds.

“Well.  Um.  Cassian, I need you to – I need you to talk Alderaanian to someone.  On a comm link.  I don’t know which dialect.”

“Huh?  What in the – why?  Did something happen with the shipment?”

“No, that’s all fine, this is something else.  I don’t even know for sure if it is something at all; but I think it is, something, that is.  You’ll be able to work it out.  I hope.  I just hope you can get a response from her.  And Jyn, I - I need you to talk me through slicing my scandocs.  I need to impersonate someone and I need to do it now.”

“Impersonate someone?”  Jyn sounds just about as stunned as she’s able to.  He imagines she's stifling a disbelieving _You?_ but instead she says “Who?”

“I dunno.  Someone – someone powerful in the – sideshow world.  A – a Regional Inspector of Fairgrounds and Circuses.  Or something.”

In the dead silence that greets this, baby Esperanz starts to grizzle and is lovingly hushed by his papa.

“Fuck,” says Jyn.  “What the krif are you up to?  I thought you were buying vegetables.”

“I’ll tell you if it works.”


End file.
